


The Dalton Academy Ninja

by Black_Crystal_Dragon



Category: Glee
Genre: AU, Bullying, Crack, Crack Treated Seriously, Just Add Ninjas, Karofsky before he came out, M/M, Ninja, The Dalton Academy Warblers - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-04-18
Updated: 2011-04-18
Packaged: 2018-08-11 20:02:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 15,018
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7905778
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Black_Crystal_Dragon/pseuds/Black_Crystal_Dragon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When a Ninja arrives at Dalton, he takes an unusual interest in Blaine.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Dalton Academy Ninja

**Author's Note:**

> Takes place during _Glee_ Season 2, roughly episodes 10-15 (A Very Glee Christmas through to just after Sexy).

However much he enjoyed life at Dalton, Blaine always looked forward to going home for Christmas. He smiled to himself as he carried the last box of books and sheet music towards his car. Although it was freezing cold the sky was bright and clear: the perfect winter’s day. He took the steps to the parking lot quickly, itching to be in his car and on his way, but the moment his sole touched the tarmac his foot slid on a patch of black ice. He couldn’t throw out his arms for balance because of the heavy box. He was going to smack his head into the concrete steps.

At least, he thought as he fell backwards with a yelp, there was no one around to witness this.

Then someone grabbed him under the arms. Blaine gasped in surprise, jerking against the unexpected touch, the box toppling out of his hands and spilling its contents. Whoever had stopped his fall managed to keep a hold on him, however, and as soon as everything had settled the hands pushed him upright. His feet skidded again on the black ice, but this time he threw out his arms and kept his balance with the help of firm hands on his waist. He reached out and grabbed the metal handrail, for extra safety, and finally his saviour let him go.

Blaine turned around carefully. Standing on the steps was a – his brain supplied the word ‘Ninja’. He blinked but the figure dressed head-to-toe in tight black clothing didn’t magically resolve itself into something more sensible, like a fellow student or a teacher.

“Um,” he said. “Thanks?”

The Ninja inclined its – his? – head in acknowledgement. Blaine couldn’t help but stare. He was starting to wish that there was someone else around to confirm that this was happening – that he wasn’t in reality lying on the steps with a spectacular head injury, hallucinating the whole thing. The Ninja stared back for a moment, then stepped down onto the tarmac without even a wobble on the ice and crouched to set the box the right way up. He began replacing books and scattered papers, and Blaine suddenly realised that he should probably have thought of that. Already, the wind had caught several bits of sheet music and sent them tumbling across the car park.

He took a step towards one of the nearer pieces, and felt someone grab his arm. It was the Ninja. He shook his head and pointed firmly at the books before releasing Blaine and walking off to get the music.

“You know, I can manage,” Blaine grumbled, but he concentrated on picking up the nearest books and papers and let the Ninja stalk about the parking lot after the wind-blown music. It was easier, after all, and he really didn’t feel like slithering about on the ice any more than was necessary.

The Ninja returned just as he was straightening up. He dropped the sheet music into the box and picked it up, inclining his head in the direction of Blaine’s car.

“Uh, OK,” Blaine muttered, surprised by this display of kindness. The Ninja looked authentic enough: now he was actually noticing things beyond ‘hey, there’s a Ninja in the Dalton parking lot’, the sai swords on his belt looked genuinely sharp and dangerous. Even so, this was starting to feel like an elaborate prank. As they walked towards the car, he wracked his brains trying to come up with someone who would go to this much trouble. He couldn’t think of anyone. Most of his close friends, including the Warblers, had gone home for the holidays already.

They reached the car without incident. Blaine unlocked it and opened the back door before taking the box, bending to stow it in the footwell. He turned to thank the Ninja – but he was gone.

“Hey!” Blaine shouted to the empty car park, more out of surprise than because he expected an answer. He turned on the spot, looking for any sign of the Ninja, but there was nothing – no sign that there had ever been anyone in the parking lot with him. In a much quieter voice, he said, “Where’d you go?”

There was no answer. Blaine sighed and carefully worked his way around to the driver’s door. With a final glance around the parking lot, he climbed into the car and started the engine. There was no point hanging around; he would only end up getting cold.

Still, the Ninja played on his mind until he arrived back at his parents’ house later that afternoon.

*

What with the bustle of Christmas and New Year, Blaine forgot all about the Ninja. He had other things to think about: spending time with his family; meeting up with friends from Dalton; not-dates with Kurt.

The days he spent in Lima were not dates. Yes, he and Kurt got on incredibly well – but the friends who teased him about his ‘boyfriend’ were deluding themselves. Kurt wanted his friendship, that was all, and he was more than happy to give him that. And if he took every opportunity to drive over and spend time with Kurt, it was because they were close friends and he liked spending time with the other boy.

A couple of days into the new year, he and Kurt arranged to meet for a day at the mall. As Blaine wasn’t a huge fan of shopping, Kurt had agreed to compromise and watch a movie later in the day. Blaine parked his car ten minutes before their arranged meeting time and headed towards the mall, but when he was about half way across the parking lot someone to his left shouted.

“Hey, faggot!”

He felt every muscle in his body tense. It had been a while since someone had shouted abuse at him but the feeling hadn’t changed. It never got any easier to take. He curled his hands into fists and kept walking.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw movement: large bodies approaching. He tucked his chin into his chest and sped up, stuffing his hands into his pockets, defensively curling up, subconsciously making himself as small as possible – trying to be unnoticeable. It didn’t work. Of course it didn’t work: it never worked.

“Look, boys – it’s Hummel’s boyfriend.”

Blaine belatedly recognised the voice. It was Karofsky. Anger flared inside him, filling him up from his toes to his fingertips, but he forced himself to grit his teeth and keep moving. Confronting Karofsky while he was with a pack of his cronies would not help. Kurt was safe now: he was at Dalton, out of Karofsky’s reach, and there was absolutely no reason to take his fist out of his pocket and throw a punch. No matter how satisfying it would be, it wouldn’t make any difference. Besides, he was outnumbered – and even one-on-one Karofsky could probably take him easily – so even if it would make a difference, it would be stupid.

“What’s the matter?” Karofsky crowed. Blaine felt thick fingers curl around his upper arm. The grip was too tight for him to break. He was forced to stop walking. “Not feeling friendly today?”

“Let go,” Blaine said, gritting his teeth against his anger. Karofsky only laughed as his friends crowded around Blaine, fencing him in.

“OK, then,” he said when Blaine was completely trapped. He let go of his arm and grinned. “What now, pretty-boy?”

“Oh, so you think I’m pretty?” Blaine said, the words out of his mouth before he could think to stop them. Instantly, Karofsky’s expression twisted out of a cruel smile and into a snarl of rage. He grabbed Blaine by the collar, dragging him close and lifting him almost off his feet.

“What’re you implying?” he spat, his face inches from Blaine’s.

Blaine saw a gloved hand tap Karofsky on the shoulder. The larger boy gave Blaine a shove, sending him reeling backwards into the arms of his footballer friends, who immediately grabbed his arms to hold him into place. Karofsky turned, obviously furious that he had been interrupted.

“What?” Blaine couldn’t see whoever had come to his rescue for Karofsky’s bulk. There was a moment of silence. Karofsky roared, “What the hell do you want, freak?”

There was no verbal answer, but Blaine saw Karofsky’s arms jerk, his body shifting as if defensively. A second later, Karofsky shot backwards with a cry of pain, bowling into his friends, who were so surprised that they released Blaine to catch their fallen comrade. Blaine scrambled out of their reach, then turned in confusion to see who had sent Karofsky flying through the air like that.

It was the Ninja, dropped into a crouch, arms raised ready for attack and eyes fixed on the knot of footballers. Blaine’s insides leapt. “You!”

“He’s – he’s with you?” Karofsky gasped, clutching at his stomach and obviously winded from the blow. He scrambled upright, shoving his friends off, and staggered forwards. Blaine was struck by his bulk compared to the lithe body of the Ninja, who was only fractionally taller than Blaine himself. Fear struck into his chest: ninja skills or not, there was no way such a small figure could take on Karofsky. The footballer drew back a fist, lips pulled back in a snarl.

The Ninja moved so fast that he was little more than a blur. Blaine saw a single blow connect just below Karofsky’s ear, then the footballer was folding down onto the tarmac. He was out cold.

The Ninja returned to his previous crouch and turned to look at the others. For a second, they stood their ground. Then they took one look at one another, scuffled forward to grab Karofsky, and made a run for it, dragging his body behind them. Blaine watched them go, his face breaking into a smile of triumph. It felt wonderful to see them getting a taste of their own medicine.

By the time he turned to look for the Ninja, he had once again disappeared.

Blaine took a quick look around for any sign of a black-clothed martial artist, but there was no one around. He sighed and glanced at his watch: he still had five minutes to find the coffee shop he and Kurt had agreed on as their meeting place. Stuffing his hands back into his pockets, he started towards the mall again. Kurt arrived fashionably late, five minutes after their meeting time and out of breath.

“Hey,” he said, sliding into a seat beside Blaine and grinning. He was flushed, presumably from hurrying. “Sorry to keep you waiting.”

“Hey, no problem” Blaine said, sliding a large non-fat mocha – Kurt’s favourite drink – across the table. He had actually been glad of the extra time; it had given him an opportunity to think about whether he should mention his Ninja friend. He took a deep breath and said, “You are not going to believe what happened to me when I got here.”

*

Blaine didn’t mention the Ninja to anyone at Dalton at the start of term. While Kurt had humoured him, the twinkle in his eyes and the quirk of his eyebrows had been incredulous. He didn’t want the other Warblers to start questioning his sanity. Anyway, he kind of liked the idea of a mysterious stranger looking out for him; he didn’t want the Ninja to be derided as a figment of his imagination.

He didn’t see the Ninja again for the rest of January. But then, he comforted himself, he hadn’t had any more life-threatening accidents or encounters. He told himself firmly that he could hardly expect a Ninja to turn up to save him from the horrors of a paper-cut.

Then he met Jeremiah, and the Ninja slowly seeped out of his mind in favour of blonde curls and sharp features.

*

After the serenade debacle at the GAP, Blaine felt more than a little stupid. Although the Warblers didn’t mention it again, he was horribly aware that they hadn’t forgotten it any more than he had.

“You seemed distracted today,” Kurt commented as they made their way towards Dalton’s coffee shop. It was the end of another Warblers practice, and although Blaine had performed his part without fault, his heart hadn’t really been in it. Solos just hadn’t seemed as appealing since the routine at the GAP.

“I’m fine,” he told Kurt, flashing a smile. “Just thinking about homework.”

“Yeah? Anything I can do to help?” Kurt offered, beaming at him. “Languages and English – I’m your man. Alternatively, if you want someone to just muddle through your other subjects with you, I’m pretty good at that, too …”

“Excellent,” Blaine said, holding the coffee shop door open for Kurt. He didn’t like lying to his friend, but he really didn’t want to bring up Jeremiah. Even the thought of him was mortifying. Plus, he wanted to do his best for the Lonely Hearts Dinner on Valentine’s Day and he didn’t want Kurt to worry that he wouldn’t be putting everything into his performance.

Kurt bought the coffees – “My treat, I insist.” – and they grabbed the coveted sofa in the corner, which was miraculously empty. Blaine, in an attempt to corroborate his story, pulled out a textbook at random from his bag. History, apparently, was the subject he was having trouble with this week. From the opposite side of the table, Kurt groaned and leaned back into the worn leather.

“Oh, please – not the Crusades, my brain might actually die.”

“C’mon, it won’t be that bad if we work together,” Blaine wheedled. He didn’t actually mind History that much. Although learning dates of battles and campaign manoeuvres was admittedly dull, everything between the lines was actually interesting. He was fascinated by the chivalric notions that underpinned the period they were learning about. The only problem was, they were ghosted over by the teachers as background, and when he had tried to bring them up he was shot down in favour of discussing the development of trebuchet use in various battles over the course of three centuries.

Kurt sighed deeply over the rim of his coffee cup. “I guess not. So: where do we begin?”

Blaine smiled and turned to his textbook. He flipped it open at the page he had bookmarked in class with a scrap of paper and they set to work on the week’s assignment.

*

Valentine’s Day arrived, and despite the fact that he was dateless Blaine couldn’t help feeling excited. The Warblers met in their lunch break for a final run-through of ‘Silly Love Songs’ before the Breadstix performance that evening and, for the rest of the afternoon, Blaine found it impossible to concentrate on school work.

When the final bell rang at last, he shot out of his class and hurried towards the parking lot. The Warblers had decided to meet there before splitting into smaller groups and carpooling to Lima. Blaine wanted to get there early; Wes had pulled him aside at the end of the lunchtime practice and given him a mild lecture on soloists setting a good example for the rest of the group. By the time he got there, Wes was already standing next to his own car, checking his watch and peering around for any sign of the others. David was lounging on the side of Wes’s car, but when he saw Blaine approaching he straightened up.

“Hey,” Blaine said, practically jogging the final few feet at the sight of Wes’s frown. “I’m not late, am I?”

“Nope,” David told him with a small smile.

“Looking forward to tonight?” Blaine asked. He could see some of the other singers heading towards them now, including Kurt. David nodded, but Wes pursed his lips.

“I’m still not happy about performing in front of the competition,” he said as he folded his arms. Blaine grinned at him.

“The only thing they’re going to find out from tonight is that we are totally awesome, and we’re going to wipe the floor with them at Regionals,” Blaine said. David laughed and Wes managed a smile.

When the rest of the Warblers had arrived and been assembled into their car-sharing groups, Wes cleared his throat to get their attention. Quiet spread through the groups slowly until they stood silently around their leader.

“OK, everyone,” Wes said. “We reconvene at Breadstix. Remember: drive safe, and don’t strain your voices on the journey. No singing along to the radio.” A ripple of laughter pattered through the group, but Wes wasn’t smiling. “I mean it! We’ll be performing in front of most of New Directions – we want our voices to be at their best.”

There was a dull murmur of assent. Wes nodded, satisfied, and turned to get into the driver’s seat. Taking this as their cue to leave, the groups dispersed and Blaine walked over to meet Kurt, the only person sharing his car because Wes had insisted on giving the most responsibility to the oldest drivers. Kurt fell into step beside him and they headed over to the far side of the parking lot. By the time they reached it, the others were starting their engines and pulling out onto the road. Blaine unlocked the doors and climbed in. Kurt followed suit and smiled at Blaine as he put on his seat belt.

“Tonight’s going to be a good night,” Blaine grinned as he inserted the key into the ignition. “I’ve got a feeling.”

He turned the key. The engine, instead of roaring into life, spluttered a little and then died. There was a sudden silence in the car. Blaine frowned and tried again, only to have the same result. He looked up at Kurt.

“Uh … it doesn’t normally do that,” he said, glancing down at the dashboard in case something had lit up to indicate a problem. There was nothing. He licked his lips and tried it a third time.

“Please don’t tell me we can’t get to Lima,” Kurt said quietly, rubbing his fingertips into his eyes.

Blaine resisted the urge to punch the steering wheel and threw open the driver’s door. He would just have to take a look under the hood. Opening the hood would at least give him something to do that was less stupid than trying to beat the interior. He had barely got it propped up when he heard the passenger door open. Kurt came around and stood beside him, arms folded, and stared at the engine. “You don’t have any idea what’s wrong with it, do you.”

“No,” Blaine admitted with a sigh. Putting together the car with his Dad might mean that he knew where all the parts went and what they were called, but it didn’t mean he could recognise which one was broken. He could hear the disappointment in his friend’s voice. Tonight was supposed to be Kurt’s big night – something he had organised for both the Warblers and New Directions to enjoy – and his stupid car was going to ruin the whole thing.

Kurt pulled his phone out of his pocket and swore. “I can never get any signal out here. Look, I’m going to go back up to the school and see if I can call my Dad from there. He might be able to diagnose whatever’s wrong with your car from a description.”

Blaine nodded; he wasn’t too proud to ask for help. If he didn’t show up at Breadstix there wouldn’t be a performance. If Kurt didn’t show up, there wouldn’t be a Lonely Hearts Dinner at all. As Kurt made his way back to the main building, Blaine looked back at the engine in case he had suddenly developed a sixth sense for diagnosing car problems in the past minutes. The engine didn’t look any different to when it was working – he certainly couldn’t tell what was wrong. He stepped back, resisting the urge to run his fingers through his hair. If Burt couldn’t tell them how to fix the car, he would have to call Wes. He and the Council members would not be happy. Wes in particular had been dubious about the Valentine’s Day performance all along, and the idea that they had wasted hours of practice on a song and however much fuel on driving part of the way to Lima would only make him sourer than usual in the next week of practices. Sighing, Blaine turned to look for Kurt.

The other boy had disappeared, probably into the main building. However, there was another figure approaching him. Blaine’s jaw dropped as he recognised the black clothes and realised that the face was covered apart from a thin strip that revealed the eyes. 

“Hey,” he said as the Ninja came to a halt in front of him. The Ninja tipped his head on one side, leaning around him to look at the car inquisitively. Blaine licked his lips. “Um, it’s broken.” The Ninja’s sharp grey eyes turned on him. Though he couldn’t see his eyebrows, Blaine could imagine one rising incredulously. He gave a nervous laugh. “Obviously …”

The Ninja approached the car, giving Blaine’s shoulder a condescending pat as he passed. Blaine turned to watch as the Ninja bent over the engine, reaching into the car’s innards. He felt a blush rise in his cheeks. The Ninja’s clothes were tight all over, and he was bent almost double; it was hard not to stare. Then again, he seemed engrossed in taking a look at the engine. He wouldn’t notice if Blaine’s eyes wandered into less appropriate regions. Feeling slightly guilty, he allowed himself to take a proper look at the Ninja for the first time. His body was slim and lithe, but he could tell that there were muscles beneath the black cloth that covered almost every inch of his body. He might not have the thickset physique of a footballer, but Blaine would be willing to bet that he was just as strong.

Something inside the engine clunked. Blaine was startled out of his ogling by the noise, which didn’t sound good. He hurried to the side of the car and ducked under the hood to try to see what the Ninja was doing. The Ninja was tinkering with some part of the engine that Blaine couldn’t see from his angle. Blaine guessed that he wouldn’t have tried to help if he didn’t know what he was doing but he decided to say something anyway.

“You know, I don’t remember anything in popular culture saying that ninjas make good mechanics.”

The Ninja raised his head, giving Blaine a look that seemed to ask, ‘Do you want me to fix your car, or not?’ Blaine swallowed hard and looked away. He had forgotten how piercing the Ninja’s eyes were in the month since he had seen him.

“Not that that means you don’t know what you’re doing,” he added hastily. The Ninja nodded and went back to what he was doing without speaking. Blaine cleared his throat, suddenly feeling awkward. He stepped back from the car and folded his arms, glancing towards the school in case Kurt was on his way back. There was still no sign of him.

After a few more minutes, the Ninja straightened up

“Is it fixed?” Blaine asked, surprised that it had taken so little time. The Ninja nodded and closed the hood of the car, gesturing for Blaine to get in. He did so, put the key in and turned it. The engine started immediately and Blaine let out a whoop of triumph. He reached for the window controls, wanting to wind his window down to call a thank you, but the Ninja was already gone. Apparently, he was so confident that the car would start, he hadn’t waited for confirmation.

Blaine sighed, slightly disappointed. He had wanted Kurt to come back and see that the Ninja was real. Still, the working car ought to be proof enough, he thought as he drove towards the main building.

Five minutes later, Kurt came out from the school and did a double take. Frowning, he hurried down the steps to the parking lot and climbed into the passenger seat. In a disbelieving tone, he said, “You fixed it?”

“Actually, no,” Blaine said with a grin. “You remember that Ninja I told you about over Christmas? He came back.”

“Are you serious?” Kurt asked, laughing. Blaine nodded as he drove towards the main road.

“I know it sounds crazy,” he admitted with a shrug, pulling out onto the road. They were already twenty minutes behind the others. He couldn’t waste time explaining what had happened before they set off.

“Huh,” Kurt said. “Well, I guess the car’s working …”

“Why would I make up a disappearing Ninja, Kurt?” Blaine asked, chuckling. He eased his foot down onto the accelerator. The other boy considered for a moment.

“I guess you wouldn’t. Not if you didn’t want to be sectioned, anyway.”

“Exactly,” Blaine grinned. Even Kurt had to admit that the fixed car was proof of the Ninja’s existence. For some reason, that knowledge gave him a rush of excitement.

*

Technically speaking, mattress surfing was banned on the Dalton campus. A number of years ago – Wes would know the exact date, but Blaine had only heard it as a rumour – a boy had slipped, fallen badly and woken up in the hospital with a broken arm, a concussion and a two-month suspension. Still, that didn’t stop the rowdier boys on Blaine’s corridor from indulging occasionally in some serious rule-breaking.

Blaine himself stood at the top of the flight of stairs on the tiny landing, leaning on the banister and chuckling as he watched his pyjama-clad classmates hauling their mattresses to the brink of the top step. The guy from the room next to his, Shawn, grinned and flashed him a double thumbs-up before he leapt onto his mattress with a whoop, sending it sliding down the stairs. He reached the landing where the stairs turned a corner and hauled the mattress onto its side to get it lined up with the next set of steps.

“You should definitely try this,” he said as he struggled to get it into the right position.

“If I break something before Regionals, I might actually be murdered in my sleep,” Blaine said with a laugh. He knew the other Warblers wouldn’t actually hurt him, but he wouldn’t be very popular if he jeopardised their chances like that. Shawn let his mattress slither over the lip of the landing and shook his head.

“Whatever, Blaine. No wonder you Warblers walk about looking so miserable. Wes and his Council never let you have any fun.”

“That’s not true!” Blaine protested, but it was too late. Shawn had already launched himself and his mattress down the stairs with a howl of delight. He shook his head, smiling at his friend’s antics, and turned to head back to his room. He might not be able to work or sleep, but there was no profit in staying out on the landing and getting caught along with the others. No teacher would believe that he was just watching and, even if they did, he would be in trouble for not going to get someone to stop them. He found his way barred be a knot of other boys, one of whom was holding a mattress vertically on the edge of the top step.

“Shawn’s right,” said one of them: Jake, the ringleader of Shawn’s group of friends. Blaine wasn’t close to any of the five boys filling the corridor, though they were generally pleasant to one another. He had been lured out by the sheer amount of noise they were making. A few others had briefly come out to watch, but they seemed to have disappeared now.

Blaine smiled. “C’mon, guys, let me past.”

None of them moved. Jake folded his arms. “You never have any fun. If you’re not actually at practice, you’re memorising lyrics or choreography or something, and the rest of the time you study.”

“I have fun,” Blaine said. He was suddenly aware that they were all looking at him with very calculating expressions. For a moment, Blaine’s mind flashed back to the days before Dalton – the days when groups of boys blocking his way were literally the figures of nightmares – before he reminded himself of the zero tolerance policy and the fact that these people weren’t going to torment him. Still, he felt defensive as he added, “I have lots of fun.”

“Have you ever mattress surfed, Blaine?” asked Mitchell, the boy holding the mattress. Blaine took a step back, shaking his head.

“No,” he admitted. “And I really don’t want to try –”

“Oh, come on,” Jake wheedled, starting to grin. Out of the corner of his eye, Blaine saw Shawn appear on the landing below, pulling his mattress up after him. Jake glanced down at him. “Shawn, hurry up, it’s Blaine’s turn.”

“Wicked!” Shawn yelled, drowning out Blaine’s protests. As he hurried up the last few steps, Mitchell shot him a disparaging look.

“Who the hell says ‘wicked’, dude?” he asked, helping Shawn prop his mattress against the wall.

“Who the hell says ‘dude’?” Shawn snapped back, giving him a playful shove. Then he turned to Blaine and grinned. “You are going to love this.”

Blaine shook his head fervently. “No, seriously – I’m sure it’s a lot of fun, but I don’t think –”

“You think way too much,” Jake announced, cutting him off. Then he turned to his group with a grin and said in a sing-song voice, “I think Blaine needs a little encouragement.”

He couldn’t help but laugh as the other boys rushed forward. There was no space to escape into, no way of fighting off four teenage boys all with the same object in mind. He was manhandled to the top of the steps, only putting up a token protest now, and then down the first five to the corner landing, where Mitchell and Shawn were waiting with the mattress.

They shoved him into the centre of the mattress, grabbing hold of the edge they could reach to hold it in place. Jake clapped him on the shoulder. “Ready, my friend?”

Blaine took a deep breath and looked down the long flight of stairs ahead of him. The smile fell from his face. There was a figure standing in the shadows at the bottom, hands on hips. His eyes widened in horror. Was it a teacher? A hall monitor? He couldn’t tell. He did know, however, that the other boys needed to stop right now. Loudly, over the countdown Shawn had started, he said, “Guys!”

He nodded at the figure at the foot of the stairs. Someone had the presence of mind to actually look, and the group was hastily shushed into silence. No one even tried to make a hasty exit. To try to escape a teacher’s wrath now would only result in the whole corridor being punished including those students who hadn’t even poked their noses out of their doors to see what was going on – and that was something the Dalton Code of Honour would not allow.

“We are in so much trouble,” Shawn muttered to Mitchell. Blaine couldn’t help but agree. He swallowed hard and hoped that he wouldn’t end up suspended. He almost certainly wouldn’t be allowed to compete at Regionals if he was suspended, and the Warbler Council would probably vote him out of the club.

The figure took its hands off its hips and stepped forward into the pool of dim light from the landing above. It was the last person Blaine had been expecting. The Ninja, clad head-to-foot in the usual black. To his left, Mitchell snorted.

“Oh my God,” he said. “Are you serious?”

There was relieved laughter from the group of boys, but Blaine didn’t join in. He could see the Ninja reaching for the sai swords on his belt. Consequently, he was the only one actually watching when the Ninja took a short run up and leapt up from the bottom step, drawing a sai with one hand while the other hit the sixth step and launched him high in the air. At the height of his flip, the sai left his fingers and cut through the air above Blaine’s head so close that he felt it ruffle his hair.

There was a thud, and then silence. Blaine whirled around. The sai had buried its point into the wall behind him, thankfully without hitting anyone. For a moment, they all stared at it; then they turned to look at the Ninja.

He was standing one step down from the landing, hands on hips again. When he had their undivided attention, he held out one hand to Blaine. He licked his lips and took it, allowing the Ninja to pull him to his feet on the step beside him. Blaine was suddenly glad that all the Dalton staircases were so wide. He took a breath to speak to the Ninja, but he raised a hand in the classic ‘stop’ gesture, then extended his arm and pointed towards the corridor.

Without a sound or a word of protest, the boys made a break for it, dragging the mattress with them as they scrambled up the stairs and along the corridor. Blaine heard doors slamming as they took refuge in their bedrooms.

Once they were gone, the Ninja stepped onto the landing and yanked the sai from the wall apparently without effort. Blaine went over to join him, noticing for the first time that the thin blade had embedded itself into a join between two of the wooden panels, making the hole it had left almost imperceptible. He raised his eyebrows, impressed. The Ninja had thrown the sai while flipping through the air, and had landed it on target without injuring anyone, apparently without effort. He reached out to touch the hole with his fingertips.

The Ninja’s gloved hand caught his barely a moment later, tugging him up to the landing above and then spinning him into the far corner. Blaine landed with his back to the wall, the breath knocked out of him. The Ninja’s palm slapped against the light switch, plunging them into darkness.

His eyes, accustomed to the light, were useless but his other senses told him that the Ninja had stepped in close. He felt the cloth of his sleeves brush against his bare arms as the Ninja braced his hands on the wall on either side of his body. 

Instinct told Blaine to be quiet. A moment later, he heard footsteps in the corridor below, the click of a light switch downstairs. From the little light that filtered up to their level, he could see that the Ninja’s covered face was inches from his own, his eyes filling his vision. He gasped, surprised that he was so close, and the Ninja raised a finger to the place where his own lips would be behind the mask. Blaine closed his eyes and waited.

He could hear the Ninja drawing deep breaths and tried to match each inhalation with one of his own to calm his frantic heart. He remembered the old rule – in through the nose, out through the mouth – and tried that, only to find his nose assaulted by a faint but familiar scent he couldn’t quite place. It was a clean smell – soap or shower gel, perhaps. He didn’t dare lean any closer for a stronger scent.

Finally, Blaine heard the light downstairs click off and breathed a sigh of relief as the Ninja moved away to turn their light on. He opened his eyes and smiled.

“Is that why you threw the sai?” he asked. “To scare everyone back to their rooms?”

The Ninja nodded once.

“Thanks,” Blaine said. His smile broadened as he took a step closer.

The Ninja turned to look down the corridor and made a pointed gesture. Blaine sighed; his mysterious benefactor was no more talkative than usual, and he was starting to wonder about the face hidden behind the mask and the voice that went with it.

“I guess this is good night,” he said regretfully. His time with the Ninja was always so short, he had no chance to figure out anything about him. He supposed that was the point, but it was no less frustrating. The Ninja nodded, and Blaine turned to walk down the corridor to his room at the far end. As he pulled open the door, he glanced back and saw the Ninja framed in the archway that led to the stairs, watching him. Before stepping inside, he raised his hand and waved. The Ninja responded with a deep bow, then moved out of sight. Blaine sighed and went into his room. He closed the door behind him and leant against it for a long while, unable to stop thinking of the sound of the Ninja’s breathing and wondering why that scent was so familiar.

*

Wes banged his gavel twice on the desk in front of him to call for silence before turning to look at Blaine.

“Warbler Blaine,” he said, indicating that he should stand. He did so and Wes continued, “You called an emergency meeting – why is that?”

Blaine glanced across at Kurt. The other boy was sitting on the sofa opposite, shaking his head almost imperceptibly. No matter what Blaine had said since their meeting with Coach Sylvester the day before, he would not be convinced that she was telling the truth about the Regionals judges. Blaine decided to focus on Wes instead. He cleared his throat.

“Yesterday, Kurt and I ran into Coach Sylvester, the cheerleading coach for McKinley High. She also recently became the coach of Aural Intensity,” he explained, looking around and making sure he made eye contact with as many of the other Warblers as possible. “She told us that the judges at Regionals will be looking for something a little … different, and that New Directions have decided to give them sex appeal.” A murmur ran through the other boys. Out of the corner of his eye, Blaine saw Wes sit back and frown. He licked his lips and quickly continued. “Now, I wouldn’t be surprised if she was planning on making Aural Intensity sexy, too.” He took a deep breath. “I think – I think that Warblers need to do the same.”

The murmuring, which hadn’t quite died down, rose up into chatter as soon as he had finished speaking. Wes banged his gavel for silence again, but this time it took longer to restore order.

“So,” David said, leaning forward on the desk, “You don’t think we’re sexy enough?”

Blaine resisted the urge to run his fingers through his hair in frustration. “It’s not that. I was just thinking – look at us.” He spread his arms to indicate the Warblers as a whole. He watched as they did as he asked, looking around at one another, taking in the uniforms. As they did so, he added, “Maybe I’m a little biased, but I think we’re fairly easy on the eyes – but the other Glee clubs will have costumes –”

“Are you suggesting that we perform in something other than our uniforms?” Wes asked suddenly, cutting him off. He was frowning in a very disapproving manner.

“No – no, not at all!” Blaine said quickly. The thought hadn’t even crossed his mind. Performing in the Dalton uniform was a matter of school pride and tradition, and he didn’t want to be the one to break it. “I think that performing in our uniforms is absolutely right and proper for us.” He saw Kurt roll his eyes and studiously ignored him. “I was just pointing out that the other clubs have sexy costumes that might work to their advantage. We don’t need to do that – we don’t need to dress up in revealing outfits to be sexy – but we do need to be able to beat two other clubs at being sexy. I’m honestly not sure we can do that right now.”

Wes nodded, apparently appeased. The other Warblers were looking around at one another thoughtfully. Blaine sank into his seat again, his point made to the best of his ability, and hoped that someone would call a vote. He could see that some of the other junior members were convinced that they needed to sex up their act, and even David and Thad looked willing to consider the idea.

Kurt slowly raised his hand. Blaine frowned, wondering what he might have to say since he had been pretty adamant that the source of their information was not to be trusted. Wes pointed the gavel at him. “Warbler Kurt.”

“Thank you,” Kurt said as he rose to his feet. He smiled briefly at Blaine before he began. “I’d just like to point out that Sue Sylvester is a lying, cheating bully who takes obscene delight in humiliating other people. I don’t mean to be rude,” he added, looking directly at Blaine, “But I would not take anything she says seriously.”

Blaine swallowed hard as Kurt sat down. He knew that Kurt didn’t mean any harm. The other boy knew Coach Sylvester better than Blaine did, and he might be right – but did they really want to take that chance? He was about to stand up to ask the others that when David spoke.

“You might be right, Kurt, but even if you are, Blaine has a point. We’ve become a little set in our ways. Switching things up a little – performing in new ways – that’s been good for us before now. Our gigs at the Gap and at Breadstix were both huge successes, even though they both stretched our skills in different ways.” He glanced along the table at Thad and Wes. “Right?”

“You’re right,” Thad said. “I’d like to call a vote. All those in favour of trying out a sexy number, possibly for Regionals?”

Hands shot into the air, Blaine’s included. Kurt glanced across at Blaine and very slowly lifted his hand from the arm of the sofa, propping it upright on his elbow. He might not have thrown his hand into the air as enthusiastically as some of the other Warblers, but it was up nonetheless. Blaine grinned and mouthed, ‘Thank you.’

“We could invite some of the girls from Crawford Country Day!” Nick suggested loudly over the murmur of chatter that had begun as soon as they had put their hands up. The suggestion was immediately met with noisy approval.

Wes banged his gavel until there was quiet. “The vote seems to be unanimous. We’ll take on board Warbler Nick’s suggestion – we do need someone to judge whether we manage to be sexy or not, after all.” He paused, waiting for quiet once again, then said, “Any other suggestions – in an orderly fashion, please!”

Several more hands shot up, volunteering everything from potential choreography to song choice to suggestions on how to be sexy. Blaine sat back to listen, letting the discussion wash over him. The rest of the Warblers seemed to be excited at the prospect of performing something a little different, which had to be a good thing. Within minutes, several people had pulled out iPods and were taking it in turns to plug them into Thad’s speakers to play their song suggestions. Although the meeting was still technically in session, it devolved into informality as everyone but Blaine and a couple of the others crowded around the speakers to listen.

Kurt came to sit beside him after a while. “I must say,” he said, speaking quietly so as not to disturb the others from listening to the opening lyrics of ‘Sexual Healing’, “You know how to inspire people.”

“Let’s just hope they get inspired by a better song than this one,” Blaine muttered, leaning closer to Kurt so that no one would hear. Kurt hastily stifled a laugh.

Thankfully, Marvin Gaye was cut off half-way through the chorus as the song was deemed too dated. The next song – ‘Animal’, by Neon Trees – made it through to the end and when it finished no one made any attempt to rush forward with an alternative.

“Gentlemen,” Wes said as he moved back towards his desk. “I think we have our song.”

Someone set it to play through again in the background of the meeting, and slowly everyone returned to their seats. When they were all back in place and quiet, David looked down the desk to address the other council members. “Liam was just telling me that his family has a foam machine and he could get it for the performance.”

There was a murmur of interest. Blaine turned to look at Liam, who flushed under the curious gazes of at least half the Warblers. “My Dad bought it for my little sister’s birthday party a couple of years back. I thought it might be fun?”

“I think the girls from Crawford Country Day would be into it,” David said with a grin. Blaine laughed, as did some of the others: David could speak with authority on what the girls from their sister school would like, since his girlfriend was one of them. After a moment, however, his face became serious again. “The problem is, if we want to use a foam machine, there’s no way we’ll be allowed to do it in a school building.”

Several Warblers groaned in disappointment. Blaine felt his heart sink. The foam machine would be fun, if nothing else, and it would be sure to win over at least some of the girls.

“We’ll find another place to perform,” Thad said.

David scribbled something onto the minutes and promised, “I’ll look into it.”

“I know somewhere,” Wes said. He took a deep breath and released it in a rush. “There’s a storage building on the edge of campus. It used to be used to store sports equipment – basketball stuff in football season and vice versa, crash mats and trampolines, gym stuff, that sort of thing. Then they built the new sports facilities and didn’t really need it any more.”

“The sports centre is, like, fifty years old or something,” Trent said, interrupting Wes’s explanation. He received a glare, but swallowed hard and continued, “I was just thinking – why didn’t they sell it or knock it down when they built the new place?”

“I have no idea,” Wes replied. Blaine raised an eyebrow disbelievingly. Wes was, pretty much, a walking History of Dalton Encyclopaedia; admitting he didn’t know something about the school was an unheard of occurrence in Blaine’s experience. Before he could question the other young man, however, Wes spoke again. “I do know that it’s a big space and it’ll be free. I’m sure we’d be allowed to use it if we asked.”

“I’ll book it,” David said. He looked up from the minutes and smiled. “I think that’s all we can achieve for now, gentlemen. We’ll send out a message as soon as we have a venue and some sheet music and parts – check your emails tomorrow morning, I’ll try and have something for you then. Wes?”

Wes looked around in case anyone had anything further to contribute, then banged his gavel to bring the meeting to a close. “Meeting adjourned.”

*

During morning break the next day, Kurt pulled out his phone to check his emails and showed Blaine the promised message from David. As he always miraculously did, Thad had found them the sheet music to ‘Animal’ and had already started turning it into a purely vocal score with his usual team of Warblers; David had managed to book the storage building for the performance with relative ease; and Wes had nominated himself to make sure the space was suitable for practices and performance before their first run-through on Thursday.

Blaine spent the rest of the day practically bouncing with excitement. By the time the final bell rang, releasing him from the clutches of French grammar, he could no longer resist the urge to go and check out the storage building. He might not be able to get his hands on the music yet, but he could at least take a look at the performance space. Swinging his satchel onto his shoulder, he made his way through the teeming corridors towards the sports complex and then out of the school buildings. There, he paused, realising for the first time that he had no idea where this storage building actually was. He started to walk out towards the football pitch, where the team was limbering up for after-school practice, keeping his eyes peeled and wondering how he could be missing an entire building.

Then he saw it. Hidden behind the stand of pine trees that ran the length of the football pitch, there was a building he hadn’t really noticed before. It was certainly large enough to be the one Wes meant. He picked up his pace, almost jogging past the footballers in his haste to get to the storage building, the excitement brewing once again.

He was surprised to find the building’s door not only unlocked but slightly ajar. Then again, he supposed if there was nothing in it to steal, there was no reason for it to be locked. It was also possible that Wes had come over during a free period at the end of the day to do some cleaning. Still, it was lucky; the best he had been hoping for was a look around the outside and maybe a chance to peer in through a window. He pushed open the door, wincing as it creaked loudly, and stepped inside.

The storage building was large and almost totally empty, apart from some scaffolding in the centre of the space. Blaine’s first instinct was to call it a stage, and he wondered how on earth Wes had managed to have one set up so quickly.

Then he noticed the black-clad figure on the topmost platform, body shifting in a series of lightning-fast but tightly controlled movements, twirling and dancing around the scaffolding without a sound, as if taking part in a silent battle against invisible assailants. There was a sai sword in each of his hands and a katana hanging from his belt. Blaine didn’t need to look at his face to know that it would be covered.

The Ninja had to know that he was here; there was no way he could have missed the creak of the door as it opened. As he somersaulted backwards onto one of the lower platforms, landing as silently as a cat, Blaine realised that he could had stopped his routine and simply disappeared before Blaine had even noticed that he was there. Yet, he had stayed and continued his training, back arching as his sais blocked phantom swords, the metal whispering through the air so fast that all he could see was the reflection of light against the hard edges of the blades. As he flipped again – this time landing with his toes on one of the scaffold’s metal tubes and balancing there just long enough to flip both sais into the air, launch a couple of throwing stars at a pair of targets painted into the opposite wall, and catch his weapons as they fell – Blaine realised that the Ninja was showing off. This was not simply a training exercise. This, he though as the Ninja executed a double backflip to the floor and landed in a crouch, was a performance, and it was entirely for his benefit.

His mouth went dry as the Ninja rose to his feet and turned to face him, sai swords spinning in his hands, drawing elegant circles and figure-eights in the dusty air. The Ninja walked towards him, flipping the sais into the air one at a time and catching them easily, though neither stopped gyrating for a moment. When he was an arm’s length away from Blaine, his hands shot down to his sides suddenly. Both swords were sheathed without taking his eyes from Blaine’s face for a moment.

Blaine realised that he was clutching the strap of his satchel far too tightly and forced himself to let it go and take a deep breath. “Wow.”

The Ninja tipped his head slightly to one side. Blaine felt that he was getting fairly good at reading the Ninja’s expression through his eyes alone. There was definitely amusement twinkling in his eyes this time. He cleared his throat loudly.

“That was impressive.”

The Ninja inclined his head slightly; more of a ‘thank you’ than a nod of agreement, Blaine thought. There was a silence. It seemed to stretch out, making Blaine’s throat tight and his feet fidgety with nerves. The Ninja was looking at him intently, just as focused now as he must have been during his routine moments before.

“Sorry if I disturbed you,” he said after a few seconds, breaking the silence but doing little to alleviate the tension that thrummed up his spine. The Ninja shook his head and took a step closer, bringing up one hand – gloveless, Blaine suddenly realised, and his heart skipped as the backs of the Ninja’s bare knuckles brushed his cheek. He realised, belatedly, that he was blushing, the Ninja’s skin cool against the flush of heat. He couldn’t suppress the shiver that ran through his body.

The Ninja followed the stroke of his fingers with a gentle swipe of his thumb along Blaine’s cheekbone. Then his eyes rose to meet Blaine’s and their gazes locked. Despite the Ninja’s expressive grey eyes, Blaine wanted to see his face. It was so hard to read his expression, with so much of it hidden. Blaine felt as though he was on the back foot, operating at a huge disadvantage because he was sure that his own emotions were written across his face so clearly that no one could doubt what he felt. Unable to resist his curiosity, Blaine reached up with shaking fingers and curled his fingers into the material of the Ninja’s mask.

In a second, the spell was broken. The Ninja stepped back sharply, batting his hand away with a firm shake of his head. He continued to back away, reaching down and pulling his gloves out of a pocket and starting to put them on.

Blaine tried to close the space between them, holding his hands up in supplication. “Wait – please, don’t – I’m sorry.”

The Ninja stopped and held up one hand: an order for Blaine to halt. He stopped in his tracks. For a long moment, the Ninja seemed to be considering, head tilted slightly to one side and eyes narrowed. Blaine licked his lips.

“Look, I’m sorry I tried to take your mask off. I won’t do it again. I wasn’t thinking. Please don’t – don’t just leave.”

Still the Ninja didn’t speak. Blaine hadn’t really expected him to; he was used to the stoical silence. It was as much a protection of the Ninja’s identity as hiding his face. Blaine could still feel the ghost of the Ninja’s finger against his cheek, and couldn’t deny the butterflies the memory created in his stomach. He wanted the Ninja to touch him again, even if that meant not knowing what he looked like and who he really was.

Finally, the Ninja held up his hand a second time, indicating that Blaine should stay where he was. He nodded to show that he understood, then watched as the Ninja padded over to the stage. He climbed from platform to platform with graceful ease until he reached the top. There, for the first time Blaine noticed a staff propped up against the metal railings at the back of the platform, its ends wrapped in black cloth. The Ninja picked it up and carefully unwound one of these, wrapping it loosely around his hand before he somersaulted to the floor and walked over to Blaine again.

The Ninja unravelled the cloth from his hand and held it out, offering it to him. Blaine let his satchel fall from his shoulder to the floor with a dull thump. Realising what the Ninja wanted, Blaine swallowed hard. “You want to blindfold me?”

The Ninja nodded once. The look in his eyes told Blaine that there would be no negotiating, no changing his mind. If he did not agree to this, the Ninja would be gone in a moment. He swallowed again, then took the strip of black cloth and carefully wrapped it over his eyes. He could see nothing through the thick cloth.

He heard the Ninja move around behind him, then the two ends were taken from him and tied at the back of his head. He licked his lips and tried to stay calm as the Ninja placed the fingertips of one hand between his shoulder blades. He could barely heard the Ninja moving, but he felt the hand slide around his body onto his chest and smiled. The Ninja was making it easy for him to track his movements. Then the hand was gone and Blaine heard a rustle of fabric. He felt a rush of excitement: the Ninja was removing something – his gloves, perhaps even the mask.

Fingertips brushed his jaw and he jumped, then realised that there was no material separating his skin from the Ninja’s and leant into the touch. The Ninja’s skin was soft, smooth against his cheek and then against his neck.

It was stupid. He knew it was stupid. He had never seen the Ninja’s face, knew nothing about him, never heard his voice or had a conversation with him – and yet, there was something about him that made Blaine ache for even this slight contact. The Ninja slid his palm against Blaine’s throat and he had to fight to keep his breathing even. Perhaps it was because his sight was gone and his other senses were compensating, but it felt as though the contact was barely enough and too much all at once.

Then he felt warm breath caress his cheek. The Ninja had removed his mask. There was still a layer of cloth keeping Blaine from seeing his face, but the fact that he had taken it off at all felt like he had been granted the Ninja’s trust. His heart thundered in his chest. He closed his eyes behind the blindfold and reached out with both hands. His fingers found the Ninja sooner than he had expected. They were standing so close that there was barely any space between them. He curled his fingers into the material at the Ninja’s waist, suddenly feeling light-headed, and felt a warm arm wrap around his back.

“Thanks,” he breathed. The Ninja’s lips brushed his cheek and he took a shuddering breath. He didn’t dare move. Slowly, tentatively, the Ninja pressed a series of light kisses down from his cheekbone to his jaw. Blaine concentrated on simply breathing, inhaling the Ninja’s scent, trying to place it and commit it to memory both at once.

The Ninja shifted the hand on Blaine’s neck, squeezing gently. He looked up reflexively, his eyes opening automatically, and felt soft lips against his own. He gasped, surprised, and the Ninja pulled back.

Blaine quickly slid a hand up the Ninja’s body to his collar and dragged him back, nuzzling blindly into another kiss. He didn’t dare move his hand up to touch the Ninja’s face or run his fingers through his hair. No matter how much he wanted to, he didn’t want the Ninja to break away and leave because he had pushed the boundaries too far. The Ninja kissed him with growing confidence, sucking Blaine’s lower lip until he whimpered into his mouth.

Finally, the Ninja broke the kiss. Blaine could hear his uneven breathing even though he too was gasping for breath. He licked his lips and slowly uncurled his fingers from the Ninja’s clothing. The Ninja leaned in again for another brief kiss, then slowly disentangled himself from Blaine’s grip. Blaine once again heard the rustle of fabric, and even though he knew it was coming his heart sank. The Ninja still didn’t trust him enough to let him see his face.

“Am I ever going to get to see your face?” he asked. He meant it as a joke, but the hurt must have been evident in his voice because a moment later he found himself wrapped in the Ninja’s arms. He returned the embrace, pressing his face into the material covering the Ninja’s neck and breathing deeply. He felt the Ninja’s hands slide up his back to untie the blindfold and held still as it was slid away from his face. He kept his eyes closed. There was no point in opening them; the Ninja’s mask was back in place, he could feel it against his cheek and forehead.

The Ninja held him for a moment longer, then stepped back and held him at arm’s length, grey eyes looking him up and down. Then he brought his gloved hand up to Blaine’s chin and ran his thumb across his lips. Despite the cloth separating their skin, the touch made his breath catch.

“I get that you’re a ninja and you’re going to disappear right now, but I am going to see you soon, right?” he asked when the Ninja finally dropped his hand back to his side.

The Ninja nodded, then turned and vaulted onto the scaffolding to collect the staff from the top platform. Blaine bent to retrieve his satchel, and by the time he straightened up the Ninja was gone. He sighed as he swung the bag onto his shoulder, and turned towards the door. As he did so, the memory of the Ninja’s kiss returned and he touched his fingertips to his mouth, unable to suppress a smile.

*

“I had a really weird dream last night,” Blaine said as he sat down at breakfast beside Kurt the morning after the performance of ‘Animal’. Kurt raised an eyebrow and took a sip of his orange juice.

“Bad weird?” he asked. Blaine shook his head and swallowed a mouthful of his cereal.

“Not really,” he replied, frowning slightly. “Just – really weird. You remember the Ninja?”

Kurt smiled slightly. “Yes, I do recall this ninja that you claim is following you around.”

“Well, in my dream, I woke up and he was crouching in my room, watching me,” Blaine explained. He looked up when Kurt didn’t respond immediately and found that he had paused with his toast half-way to his mouth, staring at him. “What?”

The other boy seemed to shake himself, then shrugged. “Nothing. I’m just horrified that your subconscious is ripping off _Twilight_.”

Blaine laughed as he realised how right Kurt was. It did sound eerily similar to Edward and Bella’s messed-up relationship. “Well, at least I just dreamed it. At least I’m not actually being watched in my sleep.” He shook his head. “It was really strange, though. It was one of those dreams where it felt really real – like when you dream you’ve had an argument with someone and when you wake up you’re not sure whether it really happened until you ask them …”

He trailed off, glancing at Kurt. The other boy had stopped again, this time holding his forgotten orange juice. He blinked at Blaine, then said rather quickly, “But it can’t have been real. Your window has a lock on it. It doesn’t open more than a couple of inches. The ninja wouldn’t be able to open it enough to crouch on your windowsill.”

“Yeah, I know,” Blaine sighed. Logic said that the Ninja couldn’t have been there the night before. Waking up and seeing him therefore must have been a dream. For a moment, he wished that it had been real – that the Ninja had been unable to stay away, and was watching over him even when he slept – then he laughed and shook his head. “I can’t believe I’m actually starting to understand why Bella is OK with Edward creeping into her room at night …”

Kurt made a disgusted sound at the back of his throat and got to his feet. “I cannot believe that you can’t find something better to base your fantasies on than _Twilight_.”

Blaine laughed, twisting around to look up at his friend. “I know, right? My subconscious has really awful taste.”

Kurt started to smile. “At least you can admit that you have a problem. Look, I need to go get my bag. I’ll see you in class?”

“Yeah, see you there,” Blaine agreed, turning to his cereal.

It was only after he had finished breakfast and was on his way to the first class of the day that he realised that he hadn’t told Kurt that the Ninja was on the windowsill in his dream. It must have been a lucky guess, he told himself as he entered the classroom and Kurt smiled at him. It was a plausible assumption to make, after all. He slid into the seat beside Kurt and thought no more about it.

As he pulled textbooks from his bag, he caught sight of his friend stifling a yawn. He frowned and asked, “You OK?” He took a proper look at Kurt for the first time that morning. “You look exhausted.”

“I didn’t sleep very well,” Kurt admitted with a sigh. He turned to stare out of the window. “I couldn’t stop thinking about what you said yesterday.”

“Hey, come on,” Blaine said, reaching over to give Kurt’s shoulder a gentle shake. He slid his hand down the other boy’s arm until it rested over Kurt’s on the desk. “I told you. We’ll figure something out.”

Kurt pulled his hand away and folded his arms. “I’m not so sure that’s a good idea.”

“This is obviously bothering you, Kurt,” Blaine murmured, keeping his voice low. He wished that the other boy would turn and face him. “I just want to help with that.”

Slowly, Kurt turned his head a little and looked at Blaine out of the corner of his eye. Blaine offered him a reassuring smile. After a long moment, he said, “OK.”

Blaine reached out and squeezed his shoulder. He already had a plan forming in his mind about how to help Kurt, but before he could say anything else, their teacher strode into the room. He turned his attention to the front as the bell rang, signalling the start of classes. There would be plenty of time to organise things with Kurt later on.

*

Wes banged his gavel on the table. As usual, pre-Regionals nerves were getting to everyone and turning most Warblers rehearsals into a complete shambles. Blaine rose to his feet, raising his voice above the clamour. “Warblers, Warblers – I am merely suggesting that instead of wearing blue ties with red piping, we wear jackets with red ties and blue piping for the competition.”

Several of the Warblers were staring at him as if he had lost his mind. It was a small variation on the Dalton uniform, but Blaine realised that perhaps he was pushing it too far this time. After all, he had been the one to come up with several of the most radical proposals of the year. Maybe this was just one step too far. Wes banged his gavel uselessly as other voices rose up in argument. Blaine heart Trent shout, “This is a kangaroo court!”

Then the practice room doors swung open and silence fell as Kurt walked through. He wasn’t wearing the Dalton uniform. Instead, he was dressed all in black and there was a sombre expression on his lowered face.

“Kurt, what’s wrong?” Blaine asked. Kurt looked up. He looked as if he had been crying – and as if he might start again any minute.

“It’s Pavarotti.” There was a long pause. Blaine’s heart twisted; he knew then that the news would not be good. Finally, Kurt added the words every Warbler knew were coming: “Pavarotti is dead. I suspect a stroke.”

“Oh my God, I’m so sorry,” Blaine replied, voicing what all the Warblers were thinking. Looking after Pavarotti might have started out as just a duty for Kurt to perform, but over the weeks their little mascot had come to mean a lot to him. The fact that he took the bird home at weekends, instead of simply handing him over to another Warbler who was staying at the school, spoke volumes. Then there was the expensive seed, the fashionable cage-covers, the way Kurt would sit in one of the common rooms doing his homework with the birdcage on the table beside him, holding a whistled conversation with Pavarotti while he worked.

“I know it’s really stupid to get upset about a bird, but …” Kurt stopped, shaking his head. Blaine glanced around. From the expressions on the other Warblers’ faces, he could see that none of them thought it stupid at all. Wes looked particularly stricken. Kurt gathered himself and finished, “He inspired me. With his optimism, and his love of song. He was my friend. Now, I know that today we need to practice doo-wopping behind Blaine while he sings every solo in the medley of Pink songs – but I’d like to sing a song for Pavarotti today.”

Without waiting for anyone to agree, he yanked a tape out of his pocket and passed it across to the nearest Warbler. Immediately, he went to play the tape and Blaine slowly sank back into his seat. The opening chords of ‘Blackbird’ began to play. Despite his grief, Kurt’s voice was as clear as ever. Obviously, he wanted to do his best in memory of Pavarotti, and he wasn’t going to let anything get in the way of performing the song perfectly.

As he reached the second verse, it felt only natural to chime in with harmonies. The rest of the Warblers caught on quickly, adding their voices to Kurt’s to sing for the bird that had been their mascot.

Then, as the Warblers harmonised through the instrumental, Kurt started to walk towards the table where the council sat. Blaine stopped singing and frowned slightly, shifting in his seat to look at Kurt again. He recognised that walk, the way Kurt held his body. The black clothes helped. As he began to sing the final verse, Blaine’s heart began to hammer in his chest as he finally put two and two together.

Kurt was the Ninja. That was why the Ninja seemed so familiar, why he recognised his scent and his grey eyes. It explained how the Ninja knew where he would be, and why he had seen Kurt shortly after half of his meetings with the Ninja.

Then he remembered the soft press of the Ninja’s lips against his. Kurt’s lips. His stomach flipped over. He could help but start to smile as he listened to Kurt sing the final few bars of the song. He had been stupid not to see what was in front of his nose all along. Kurt was smart and funny, often sarcastic and sometimes bitingly cruel but always honest. Now that he thought about it, Blaine realised that he was happiest when he was around Kurt. The other boy could make him smile even on the worst of days. Knowing that he was the Ninja, knowing what he was capable of, sent a shiver down Blaine’s spine.

As the song ended and Kurt said a tearful thank you, Blaine wondered how he had failed to notice Kurt before. Ninja or not, he had been blind not to see the wonderful person right in front of him.

Blaine smiled, watching as the other Warblers stood up, surrounding Kurt to offer him comfort and congratulate him on the song. A plan was already starting to form in his mind. He wouldn’t tell Kurt right away that he knew he was the Ninja. He would let him keep his secret for a little longer. There was no way he could keep his feelings hidden, however, and he had the perfect idea for how to reveal them.

*

As they walked away from Pavarotti’s tiny grave, Blaine could tell that Kurt’s mind was still on Regionals. He gave his hand a squeeze, tugging him a little closer as they headed towards the parking lot. “So, I’ve been meaning to ask you something …”

“What’s that?”

“When were you planning on telling me that you’re a ninja?” he asked, grinning at Kurt. It might not have been the perfect time to bring it up, but at least it would take his mind off Regionals and Pavarotti.

Kurt stopping in his tracks and laughed, but Blaine had known him long enough now to hear that it was false. “What on earth gave you that idea?”

“Come on, Kurt, don’t treat me like an idiot,” he said. Kurt raised an eyebrow; he made no secret of the fact that he thought Blaine had been clueless about his feelings for way too long. Blaine sighed, shaking his head. “OK, I can be stupid sometimes, but give me a little credit. I can at least put two and two together. It’s kind of obvious, really. I mean, especially now we’re together.” He took a step closer. “If I didn’t work it out before, kissing you made me sure …”

Kurt moved away from him with a mischievous smile and started walking again, swinging their hands. Blaine was glad that he hadn’t let go. He had been worried that bringing up the ninja thing might cause a rift between them, especially since he had been so reluctant to reveal his identity when he was behind the mask.

“Hypothetically,” Kurt said after a few moments, “If I was your ninja, I wouldn’t be able to tell you. Not without my Sensei’s permission. I mean, ninjas have a code. Right?”

“I guess,” Blaine replied, shrugging. “But I already know, so …”

“I would still need to ask my Sensei,” Kurt said. He paused and looked over at Blaine. “Except, of course, I don’t. Because I’m not a ninja.”

“Can’t we go and ask your Sensei now?” Blaine asked, stopping short. Kurt sighed and turned to face him.

“If I was a ninja,” he said, careful to keep up the pretence. Blaine almost laughed. He could see from the twinkle in Kurt’s eyes that it was almost a joke to him, too. “I couldn’t just take you to my Ninja Headquarters. Not unless you found it yourself …”

He gave Blaine a pointed look. Clearly his last words were supposed to be a clue. Blaine wracked his brains, trying to think of a place, probably nearby, where ninjas could go and train in peace. He thought back to all the places he had seen the Ninja, and almost immediately remembered the storage building near the football field. It was the one time their roles had been reversed and he had been the one to find the Ninja. Kurt looked at him expectantly and he grinned.

“Come on,” he said, dragging Kurt after him as he jogged in the opposite direction, past the tree that marked Pavarotti’s grave towards the football pitch and the line of trees that screened the building from sight.

When they arrived, Blaine was not surprised to find the door unlocked again. He turned to look at Kurt, who shrugged and pretended not to know why they were even there, then pushed it open and stepped inside.

The stage was still in the centre of the room. On the top platform, Blaine could see a figure in the clothes of a ninja practicing with a bo staff. He continued for a few seconds, the staff twirling around his head, then he flipped off the platform and landed on the ground, the tip of the staff impacting first with a loud crack. Blaine jumped, but Kurt remained still.

He held Kurt’s hand a little tighter as the ninja walked over and came to a halt in front of them. He regarded them silently, his dark, slanted eyes looking first at Kurt and then at Blaine. He raised a hand. Blaine tried his best not to flinch away from the possibility of a blow. The ninja was reaching for his mask, not preparing to strike. Blaine held his breath as the mask was slowly unwound from the ninja’s face to reveal –

“Wes?”

“Hello, Blaine,” Wes said with a small smile. “I think we owe you an explanation.”

He gestured for them to follow as he went back over to the platform. Blaine glanced at Kurt, who nodded encouragingly, then followed him and took a seat beside him on the edge of the lowest platform.

“So, you’re a ninja?” Blaine said to Wes. The older boy laughed and nodded.

“I have the honour of being the leader of our ninja clan,” Wes told him with a nod.

“Wait, there’s more of you?” Blaine asked, glancing between Kurt and Wes in surprise. Both nodded.

“There are about ten of us,” said another voice from the shadows. Blaine looked around sharply to see David walking out of the darkness. Unlike Wes, he was wearing his Dalton uniform, but the fact that he had referred to ninjas as ‘us’ left him in no doubt that David was one of them. “We recruited Kurt at the start of the year. It seemed like he needed to learn some self-defence.”

“Wait, hold on a second,” Blaine said, holding up his hands. “You made Kurt a ninja because he needed to learn to look after himself – why not me?” He glanced across at his boyfriend, reaching over to squeeze his hand. “I know Kurt had it a lot worse than I did, but … I was bullied, and you never asked me to join. Besides, he was away from McKinley by then –”

“Well,” David said, folding his arms and looking down at Blaine with a softened expression. “We would have asked you to join us, but …”

“You’re not really ninja material,” Wes said gently. “You’re too nice.”

Blaine blinked at them. “You guys are nice.”

“Don’t take it the wrong way, Blaine,” David said, taking a step closer. “It’s kind of a good thing. We just … couldn’t imagine you punching someone out in a single blow.”

“We couldn’t imagine you punching anyone at all, actually,” Wes added, patting Blaine on the shoulder. “You’re not exactly confrontational. After you joined the Warblers, we all agreed on that …”

“I guess,” Blaine muttered, looking down at the ground. It was true that he preferred to talk things through calmly rather than wade into a physical fight, but he still felt a little hurt that they hadn’t offered him the same chance at defending himself that they had given Kurt. Then he frowned, realising something. “What do the Warblers have to do with anything?”

Wes and David looked at one another. After a second, Wes turned to face him and said, “The Warblers are our cover. It’s kind of a long story, but … basically, when the first ninja clan was established at Dalton, they needed a cover story – something plausible that wouldn’t require teacher involvement, something they could actually do that wouldn’t take up too much time, but which they could use as an excuse to their non-ninja friends when they came to train.”

“So, they decided to form a choir,” David continued. “Eventually, non-ninjas started showing an interest in the choir and they had to let them join. It would look suspicious if they didn’t.”

Wes took up the story again. “It worked to the clan’s advantage. They still had an excuse for all the hours they spent in ninja practice, but the choir was actually good. A good choir arouses less suspicion than one full of people who can’t sing. I don’t think the founders ever thought their cover story would ever be as popular as the Warblers have become …”

“How did I not know any of this?” Blaine asked, glancing at Kurt. The other boy smiled.

“Don’t worry. Not that many people really know the truth.”

“Thad knows,” Wes said, ticking him off on his fingers. “He has to – he’s on the council. Then there’s the rest of the ninjas.”

“And – well – I think the rest of the Warblers know, actually.” David admitted, earning himself a sharp glare from Wes who clearly had been intending to keep that part secret. He raised his hands defensively. “We had to tell them – so that the excuse of going to ‘Warbler practice’ actually works and they don’t blow our cover …”

“So, basically, you’ve all been keeping this a secret from me,” Blaine grumbled, taking his hand from Kurt’s and folding his arms.

“But we’ve told you now,” Kurt pointed out, shifting slightly closer and looking at Blaine wide-eyed. “I’ve wanted to tell you all year, but they wouldn’t let me.”

Blaine looked up at David and Wes. Both of them were refusing to meet his eyes. Eventually, David muttered, “We didn’t want you to be pissed off. We thought you might leave the Warblers.”

Wes finally glanced at him. “And let’s face it, where would we be without you?”

Blaine rolled his eyes and stood up so that he could address them all. “You guys – there are people other than me with amazing voices. The three of you are great examples of that. And anyway, I wouldn’t want to leave the Warblers.” He paused, suddenly thinking of something. “This isn’t why you’ve been so quick to give me solos all year, is it?”

“Of course not,” David scoffed, but the words came a little too quickly, and the glance he shared with Wes made Blaine a little suspicious. He narrowed his eyes, but before he could press them for more information Kurt rose to his feet.

“Anyway,” he said, grabbing Blaine’s arm and wheeling him towards the door. “We should be going. I promised my dad I wouldn’t be back late tonight.”

Wes and David called their goodbyes as Kurt propelled Blaine out of the door. As they made their way back towards the parking lot, Kurt slipped his hand into Blaine’s and gave it a gentle squeeze.

“I was right, wasn’t I?” Blaine said dejectedly. “They only gave me solos because they wanted to stay on my good side.”

Kurt sighed and stopped walking, grabbing Blaine’s shoulders and giving him a shake. “OK, yes. The reason why the Warblers have turned into your own personal fan-club over the past few months is because I’ve been telling them that they have to come clean to you sometime, and they wanted to get on your good side before they did. I thought it was a stupid idea all along – which is why I got so pissed off about it – but I’m not on the council, so I didn’t get a say.”

Blaine felt his heart sink. So he had been getting solos because his friends were sucking up to him and not because he was the best singer? He looked away from Kurt’s gaze. It was his fault they hadn’t got through at Regionals. If the songs had been given to someone with a better voice …

“Hey,” Kurt said, cutting through his spiralling train of thought. “That said, you deserved to get every one of those solos. You are one of the best singers at Dalton. Besides me, of course.”

Blaine couldn’t help but laugh at Kurt’s words. He could tell from the other boy’s tone that he was trying to cheer him up. He also knew that Kurt wouldn’t lie to him about his musical ability. He looked up and smiled.

“Thanks, Kurt,” he murmured. Kurt smiled and took his hand again, tugging him into step beside him.

“Come on. My dad really does want me home early.”

They walked back to Blaine’s car in silence. As they reached the driver’s door and Kurt stepped away to walk around to the other side, Blaine thought of the kiss he had shared with the ninja before working out Kurt’s secret identity and of the conversations they had had following the performance of ‘Animal’. He tightened his grip on Kurt, stopping him.

“What?”

“I just thought of something,” he said softly. Reaching out and placing his hands on Kurt’s hips, he asked, “Why did you say all that stuff about not being sexy?”

Kurt frowned at him. “Well, you said it yourself –”

“Kurt,” Blaine murmured, shuffling closer. “When we sang ‘Animal’, I think … I think you were trying too hard.”

The other boy’s eyes flicked to one side, a blush rising in his cheeks. Blaine tightened his grip, stopping him from shying away and Kurt sighed. His arms twitched as if he wanted to fold them. “If I can’t even be sexy when I’m trying …”

Blaine chuckled, ignoring the sharp glare Kurt shot in his direction. He murmured, “You don’t need to try.”

He couldn’t believe that Kurt couldn’t see what he did. Kurt was effortlessly sexy when he was just himself. Knowing that he was the ninja had only helped Blaine to see that. Slowly, the other boy looked up and met his gaze. He smiled, lifting a hand to stroke his thumb across Kurt’s cheek, then leaned across to kiss him. He felt Kurt’s hands come up against his chest, curling into the collar of his coat.

When they finally broke the kiss to breathe, Blaine grinned against Kurt’s mouth. “Besides, I found some videos online of you performing with the Cheerios. I’m starting to think you were making your ‘sexy faces’ bad on purpose.”

Kurt gave him a shove and folded his arms. “I’m pretty sure that’s stalking.”

Blaine laughed and reached into his coat pocket for his keys. “They were on Facebook, Kurt. That barely counts.”

“Still stalky,” Kurt insisted as he walked around the car to passenger side and climbed in. Blaine got into the driver’s seat and put the key into the ignition.

“You are not going to hold this against me,” he murmured, leaning across the middle of the car. Kurt started to smile.

“I suppose I can forgive you.”

“Come here,” Blaine said. He reached out to tug at Kurt’s sleeve until he shifted sideways, moving close enough for a kiss.

Blaine pressed their lips together and felt Kurt sigh into his mouth, one hand cupping his cheek. The memory of his kiss with the Ninja – with Kurt dressed in his ninja clothing – rose in Blaine’s mind and he shuddered, remembering how sensual the kiss had been. Kurt’s fingers curled around the back of his neck and he shifted position, bracing one hand on the back of the passenger seat so that he could run his fingers into his hair.

“See?” he breathed against Kurt’s lips as he pulled back. “Sexy.”

He felt Kurt’s laugh as a huff of air against his mouth, then he was being kissed again, the other boy’s tongue swiping at his lower lip before he caught it between his teeth and sucked hard. He moaned, his fingers digging into the seat upholstery as Kurt’s other hand slid against his jaw, tilting his head to a better angle.

When Kurt finally released him, Blaine was breathing heavily. He sat back, smirking, and Blaine added, “Definitely sexy.”

“Just take me home, Blaine,” Kurt said. Taking a deep breath, he clamped down hard on the flush of arousal that had risen up the back of his neck and dropped fire into his belly, and turned the key in the ignition. He somehow managed to reverse out of the space without crashing into another car, and tried to rein in his lustful thoughts as he crawled towards the exit, for once keeping to the five-miles-an-hour speed limit in the parking lot because he didn’t trust himself to go any faster until his mind was back under control. As he pulled up at the exit to look right and left, Kurt glanced across at him. “By the way, my dad said that if you want to stay over tonight, you’re more than welcome.”

The words were light and casual, but Blaine could see the smirk still playing around his boyfriend’s lips and the impish sparkle in his eyes. His mind immediately snapped back to memories of their kiss – and to the fantasies he had entertained both of both Kurt and the Ninja. He groaned and dropped his forehead onto the steering wheel as Kurt started to laugh.

“You are going to be the death of me,” he said firmly. He tried to conjure up the most unsexy images he could think of, but not even the thought of his fifth grade teacher in drag worked this time.

“Shall I drive?” Kurt asked. Blaine turned to glare at him and found the other boy staring innocently at the ceiling. He thought of refusing to admit that Kurt had had such an effect on him, but driving in a state of distraction wasn’t a good idea, he knew that. He might be willing to risk it if he was alone in the car, but he wouldn’t risk crashing into a tree or something if it might harm Kurt.

“That might be for the best,” he admitted reluctantly. Kurt giggled as he switched off the ignition. At any other time, Blaine might have teased him for it, but this time he let it go and climbed out of the car.

Kurt did the same, practically skipping around the hood and kissing Blaine’s cheek as they passed one another. Blaine hurried into the passenger seat and fastened his seatbelt, leaning back and taking steadying gulps of air as Kurt started the car and pulled out onto the road. He was grinning triumphantly, shoulders still shaking slightly as he tried not to laugh. Blaine glanced across at him and couldn’t help but smile. He was blushing slightly still, but there was no way he could have missed the effect he had on Blaine that time. At least, he thought, he would no longer be in any doubt that he thought he was sexy. He could take a little mockery in aid of a good cause.

Besides, if he was sleeping over at Kurt’s, he could wreak his revenge later on.

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by this video of [Chris Colfer](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=DZl1QBOW5X0) showing off a certain degree of skill with sai swords! Honestly, I couldn't believe when I wrote this that someone hadn't done it already.
> 
> Huge thanks to ice_elf for betaing, idea-bouncing and hand-holding.
> 
> Imported to AO3 in August 2016.


End file.
